


and your love was all that mattered

by DuendeJunior



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, I forgot to mention condoms but they're safe y'all, Light Angst, M/M, Perceived Rivalry, Porn with a hint of Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuendeJunior/pseuds/DuendeJunior
Summary: The press doesn't know what to make of Victor and Yuuri's relationship, but they love to label it "rivalry". Rivalry is drama, and drama sells.And it couldn't be further from the truth of what happens when they're alone together, hidden from the world by the walls of a secret hotel room.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 135





	and your love was all that mattered

**Author's Note:**

> starting the year with smut [party popper emoji.png] (this was the first draft I saved to AO3 this year so it still counts)  
> this is based on a not-really-enemies-to-lovers AU [Eleanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agasthiya) was talking about at the wewritevictuuri server (also thanks for the help with the summary <3), and it might also owe a lot to Ollie's [sweet like love, soft like pain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288803/chapters/30410346) (pls go bask on its delicate glory after you read this one)  
> my grasp on the figure skating yearly schedule is not the best under ideal circumstances, and you can imagine there wasn't much of a braincell left at 5 AM when this was finished so please ignore any mentions of dates and events that might make you go "wait, what?"  
> title from Bob Dylan's _Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You (Rolling Thunder Revue Version)_

Yuuri adjusts the black mask over his mouth and looks both ways twice before crossing the street – all signs point to it being a one-way street but one can never be too careful, both about the presence of cars and photographers. He’s not _jogging_ , per se, but he walks at a quicker pace than normal, itchy to get to the small hotel on the other side.

It’s not the same hotel Yuuri checked-in two days ago, where Celestino sleeps like the dead in the adjoining room and where Phichit gave him a discreet fist-bump as they parted ways in the elevator. It’s respectable and clean, but too out of the way from the sports center to be a skater’s home base during the competition.

Therefore, it’s perfect for this.

“Hi,” he tells the receptionist. “I have a reservation. Takeshi Nishigori.” He hands her his ID and credit card, and if she feels anything about guests who book rooms under pseudonyms she doesn’t mention it. As for Takeshi himself, he probably wouldn’t approve, but Yuuko would probably be enthusiastic enough for both of them.

Yuuri should get them some gifts before his stay is over.

The receptionist hands him the keys and wishes him a good stay. “Thank you,” he says.

Yuuri walks to the elevator and presses the fifth floor button. It’s late, and he’s alone, so he allows himself to jog in place, just a little, to relieve tension.

He can remember the first time they’ve done that, clear as day. The way his stomach behaved like he was going down a roller coaster and not up on a spacious elevator in a luxury hotel in Moscow. How he almost bumped into Yakov Feltsman and was saved at the last minute by Georgi calling him from the other end of the corridor. How he briefly considered turning around and legging it back to his room until a door, _the_ door, opened and the most gorgeous smile had welcomed him.

Just in case, he checks again the room number on the tag attached to the keys before ripping the mask from his face and running through the empty corridor, aching to have that one moment once again.

The door from room 510 unlocks before he can raise his hand to knock.

Yuuri can’t bite back his smile.

“Victor.”

Victor extends a hand to him.

He takes it.

Victor’s lips land on Yuuri’s at the exact moment the lock clicks behind him. Victor crowds him against the door, as unwilling to let him go as Yuuri is unwilling to leave.

He raises his free hand and tangles in on Victor’s hair – his bangs are longer, and still soft and silky as a good dream between Yuuri’s fingers. He pulls Victor impossibly closer, sucking on his tongue, letting Victor devour him for as long as he wants to.

It doesn’t take long for the necessity of oxygen to arise, to their sorrow. If asked, Yuuri wouldn’t deny the needy whine that falls from his lips, but he’d need to hide behind some pillows for a few minutes afterwards.

Victor touches their foreheads, taking on air in great big gulps but never straying too far, his hand cradling Yuuri’s face.

“It’s been too long.”

“Almost five weeks,” Yuuri says.

Victor’s thumb traces Yuuri’s cheekbone as they kiss again, soft and slow this time. Yuuri lets go of Victor’s hand to put both arms around his neck, and Victor’s hand finds its way to his waist.

They stay like this for a while. Victor’s smell surrounds him, light and airy with just a hint of citrus, and Yuuri wish they could stay like that for days without end.

Sadly, between kisses, he ends up letting out a pained groan – the position is not doing his neck any favors, even if Victor is not that much taller than he is.

Victor tuts and breaks the kiss. “Yuuri,” he says, in that way of his that makes Yuuri’s name sound like the sweetest endearment. “Why are we here when we can be in bed?”

Yuuri pouts a little and tries to kiss him again. What does it matter where the bed is when the important thing is that they won’t be parted for a second, not for tonight?

And Victor lets him at first, the slide of their lips enticing, but then he moves away again, his hand finding Yuuri’s. “Come on.”

Yuuri sighs and lets himself be led to the bed. It’s a bit on the smaller side, as is the room, but the sheets are soft when Yuuri touches them, and the way the mattress bounces a little when they fall on it makes Victor giggle, which automatically grants it a place among the best rooms they’ve ever rented.

They kick off their shoes and lie down side by side, Yuuri’s head pillowed on Victor’s arm, their legs entangled. Yuuri raises his hand to Victor’s face in a mirror of Victor’s gesture minutes ago. “Hey,” he says, drawing small circles on Victor’s skin.

Victor smiles at him again, his own hand drawing Yuuri’s hoodie up to rest over his side, where the skin is still warm. It makes Yuuri shiver.

“Will your hands always be cold like this?” Yuuri asks.

“Only when you’re not here to warm me up,” Victor answers.

Yuuri snorts. He rests his hand over Victor’s chest.

“For a second I thought you wouldn’t come,” he says, more serious now.

“The press conference?”

Yuuri nods.

Part of the press has the habit of trying to guess what is Yuuri and Victor’s relationship – which in the past led to both thinking the other hated them, thanks to a jab Victor intended friendly coming out wrong during a press conference and a picture of Yuuri’s furious face after a free skate being misconstrued as a statement of his feelings for Victor. It took them some time – and a variety of embarrassing pictures Phichit collected for future use – to clear it all up, and it makes them afraid to think what else could be distorted if the press took wind of what started blooming between them.

“Morooka can be very perceptive, I’ll give him that,” Victor says. His fingers slide to Yuuri’s back, undemanding but curious. “But no. I never thought of not coming.”

The edges of Victor’s collarbone peek from the neck of his soft grey Henley, and Yuuri traces them in silence.

“I’m sorry I don’t want to say anything yet,” Yuuri says, his stomach threatening to start its old song and dance. He’s asked Victor if they could wait until he broke Victor’s world record to let the world know they are together, and the competitive edge of Victor’s smile had lit a fire in Yuuri’s insides, but sometimes ( _a lot of times_ ) he wonders.

He feels Victor’s hand pressing against his skin.

“Yuuri,” he says. He had tried to reassure Yuuri with kisses at first, and if Yuuri wasn’t too upset he would let him, but it never really worked. It was a funny thing, learning things about the people you loved. What made them tick and what left them cold. “I don’t mind waiting. I know it won’t be long now.”

“And what if it is?”

Victor shakes his head.

“There’s no other skater better prepared to snatch my world record and the GPF gold from under my nose, and I’m eager to challenge you for them next year.” His eyes are on Yuuri, and so is all the weight of his confidence. “We’ll both get everything we want, my love.”

It is electrifying.

He lunges at Victor and kisses him again, all teeth and tongue and determination. The impact makes Victor turn around on the bed, and Yuuri ends up on top of him, their whole front an unbroken line of contact and heat.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor says against his lips, pushing up Yuuri’s hoodie, and Yuuri curses himself for not having the foresight to grab one with a zipper. Their mouths break apart, but Victor keeps his hands on Yuuri’s waist as he rids himself of hoodie and shirt in a single move and sends both flying somewhere.

“Now you,” Yuuri says, pulling at Victor’s Henley and relishing the sharp intake of breath Victor rewards him with. It pains him to take off his glasses now, but explaining afterwards why it break would be even worse.

He runs his hands over Victor’s naked torso. He can feel the big scars from the couple of surgeries Victor went through in the past, raised skin under his fingertips. As they are now Yuuri can’t see the clusters of freckles on his chest, or the little scars caused by domestic mishaps and Makkachin, but he knows and loves them all the same.

Victor pulls him down for another kiss and Yuuri goes, easy as anything. His hands roam up and down Yuuri’s back and shoulders, and he’s already so hard against Yuuri’s thigh, and Yuuri wants, Yuuri _wants_.

He drags a hand down Victor’s chest, short fingernails leaving red marks in their wake, and Victor gasps into the kiss. With a last pull to Victor’s plush lower lip, Yuuri plants a trail of kisses along his jaw, up to the point right under Victor’s ear that makes him sigh.

“Yuuri, _please_ ,” he says when Yuuri bites at his lobe. It makes Yuuri ache for the moment where they can stretch this moment for as long as they can, where he’ll bite and tease with his hands and mouth until Victor is screaming.

His hand sneaks lower and finds Victor’s restless hips, covered by the cotton of his sweatpants, already moist with precome. He licks a path down Victor’s neck, up to the point right below where the collar of Victor’s usual shirts rest.

He does bite down a bit too hard when he moves his fingers into Victor’s pants just to find out he’s not wearing any underwear.

“ _Victor_ ,” Yuuri groans. Yuuri can hear the smile in Victor’s gasp when he wraps his hand around his dick.

There’s not much room to move with the way they’re glued to each other, but it’s enough and Victor can’t help but pull Yuuri’s hair when Yuuri turns his wrist just right and he knows he’ll be sore later but Victor’s skin under his tongue is the best thing he’s ever tasted as he bites love into his skin.

“Yuuri Yuuri _Yuuri_ ,” Victor murmurs over and over, a prayer made up of a single word, as Yuuri ruts against his thigh and his hand picks up speed.

“Victor Victor I– _Victor!_ ”

Yuuri comes in his pants with a high pitched whine, right after Victor’s climax coats his hand.

In the aftermath they breathe harshly, but rhythmically, their chests rising and falling in concordance with one another, one filling up while the other empties. Yuuri can feel the sweat sticking his pants to the back of his thighs, and come on his fingers and his crotch. All of this promises to be very uncomfortable for him in the future. Say, ten minutes from now.

In this very moment, Victor’s fingers are lax on his hair and he’s warm and solid under Yuuri.

He chuckles, and Yuuri feels the rumble on his own chest.

“I hate to see you go but the reunion is almost worth it,” Victor says.

Yuuri nips at his shoulder pointedly. Victor just laughs again. He knows Yuuri’s not really mad.

“Was Chris serious when he said he had a plan of diving into the market of self-cleaning clothes?” Yuuri asks. “I would give a kidney not to have to move.”

“He says it’s a post-retirement project,” Victor says. At Yuuri’s answering groan, he turns his neck to look at him. “And I thought you liked taking a bath together.”

Yuuri pushes Victor’s fringe off his eyes. It’s a bit sweaty and they’re both still lying down, so it’ll stay behind Victor’s ear. “Staying in bed like this is very nice too.”

A big dopey grin illuminates Victor’s face, and he pulls Yuuri into a sticky, moist hug. It’s not Yuuri’s ideal hug, not by a long shot.

And it’s perfect.

They settle in bed after their shower, which ended up turning into another make-out session halfway through. Yuuri has rescued his hoodie and shirt from where it fell before and put on a pair of one of his boxers that Victor keeps at hand for occasions like this – he has his fair share of Victor Nikiforov’s underwear for emergencies, well hidden in the confines of his luggage, and ain’t that a thought to behold –, while Victor once again decided to forego shirts altogether.

Yuuri is the one cradling Victor in his arms now, their legs once again entangled. Victor snuggles against his chest with a happy sound, as if he’d been waiting for years to be there. Sometimes Yuuri wonders if he has.

It’s better than champagne.

“How’s Yakov?” Yuuri asks, playing with he ends of Victor’s hair, which always curl a little after a good warm shower.

“As he always is,” Victor says. “Trying to convince us we’ll kill him before he turns seventy. As if he and Lilia aren’t capable of outliving us all.”

Yuuri chuckles. Presses a kiss to a bare sliver of Victor’s forehead just to hear him whine.

“Was he as pissed at Yuri in Beijing as he looked from where I was standing?”

“Oh, he was.” Victor’s fingers draw figure eights on his back, and for a moment all of Yuuri’s little internal monologues stop. “Yura is… Something.” His fingers stop. Yuuri can feel the uncertainty making Victor’s shoulders stiff. “I don’t remember being that angry when I got my first growth spurt.” He pauses. “I want to help him, but I’m not sure how.”

Yuuri runs his hand up and down Victor’s back, soothing – or, at least, trying to. His skin is soft, and cool to the touch.

Yuuri wishes he were better at advice.

“Don’t stop trying,” he says after a while. “You never stopped trying to understand me. Maybe with time you can find a way with him too.”

They settle further into bed and under the covers, their very own cocoon of safety in the night.

“You’re different, Yuuri,” Victor says. “But I guess you’re right.”

Yuuri kisses him again. His forehead, his nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow.

“And Celestino?” Victor asks some minutes later.

“Good, good,” Yuuri says. Victor’s fingers draw figure eights on his back, and for a moment all of Yuuri’s little internal monologues stop. “Phichit is trying to rope him into something or other for Instagram. It’s for charity, so I guess Ciao Ciao is going to agree.”

“I remember someone ended up with green hair last time I heard of doing things on Instagram for charity.”

Yuuri hums in agreement. It was someone from the Chinese team; he’s unsure of their name now. Cao Bin? Perhaps. “Ciao Ciao likes to say his hair is insured.”

Victor looks up. “Wait, you can do that?”

Yuuri shrugs. “That’s what he says.”

Victor’s eyes shine with excitement, and Yuuri is not sure what did he just awake in him with that comment, but if it makes Victor happy who is he to bring up how ridiculous the notion of hair insurance sounds.

Silence falls over them once again, light and comforting. Their breaths are in perfect sync, and they don’t have anywhere to go until the afternoon, when they’ll catch their respective flights – Yuuri has made sure to set up three alarms on both of their phones so they won’t miss them.

He stops trying to keep his eyes open.

“I’ll make all this sneaking around worth your while,” he whispers into Victor’s hair before sleep claims him.

He only half-catches the " _you already do_ ” Victor says into his skin, but it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://everymanwillbeaking.tumblr.com)


End file.
